Don’t tell me that I wasn’t in a serious relationship with him, so crying over him is stupid. You’re just pattering the salt in my bleeding wounds.
Don’t tell me that he’s just not interested in me and I should stop caring because I feel like no one’s ever capable of liking me and loving me. What if the guy I loved was just one of many, who found me weird, unlovable, even disgusting?
Don’t tell me just to forget him because I can’t turn off my emotions like I turn out the light in my room.
Don’t tell me that the way I feel is funny because we only met in real life several times. He knew more about me than you ever will.
Don’t tell me to find someone else, who will appreciate me. I can just put a patch on my infected, bleeding wounds. Picking someone else while I’m hurting will just make me toy with someone else’s feeling without even knowing it.
Don’t tell me to dive into the sea of hobbies and things I need to do. Whatever I do, I still can’t stop thinking about him.
Don’t tell me to stop overreacting. Living without him feels like watching black and white TV with no sound after having normal TV with sound and colours.
Don’t tell me to stop exaggerating because being without him is like desperately trying to catch air when theirs none.
Don’t tell me to stop punching walls with my fists. I can’t feel a thing without him, at least I can feel physical pain.
Don’t tell me I will be better without him because the moment you say it, all the happy memories with him start flashing in front of my eyes.
Don’t tell me there’s a plenty of fish in the sea. There’s no other guy with who I could vibe so well.
Don’t tell me that you know, how I feel. You never ever met him, you never saw him through my eyes.
Losing him seems like never ending hell. Being him was like heaven and hell mixed in one but I’d rather chose hell with few moments of heavenly happiness than never ending suffering.
xoxo, Porcelain Doll.